


An Uncommon Path

by AJGhostWolf



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Jack O'Neill, Hurt Pike, Major Character Injury, Romulans, Vulcans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJGhostWolf/pseuds/AJGhostWolf
Summary: After interrogating and breaking Captain Pike, Nero decides to let him live with the guilt. Using his Red Matter, he sends Pike a long time ago, to a galaxy far far away . . . .
Comments: 30
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All That Matters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/233766) by [imachar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imachar/pseuds/imachar). 



> Y'all I read about the best story I've ever seen, bar none, and it inspired me to write this. It's called All That Matters, it's by user imachar and I have it bookmarked as recommended because I seriously want the thing to blow up! It's masterfully crafted, written, and tasteful. It is explicit, but if that ain't your thing it's pretty easy to skip past to the next scene break and I'm not kidding that it is truly a treat.  
> Anyway, hope you like this little idea I had!

All he was aware of was pain. Deep, radiating pain that seemed to start at his core and just radiate outwards. It made him feel sick, but the only thing keeping him from throwing up was the knowledge that if he did, he might well choke to death on his own vomit. Like a few Cadets he had known back in the Academy, dead and disgraced by the method. He didn’t even know if there  _ was _ anything in his stomach to puke up anymore, but he didn’t much want to find out. 

He could vaguely tell he was laying half on his back and poorly propped against something from the way his body felt, like his bones had been fractured and bruised. Of course, many of them had so that wasn’t exactly a mystery worth pursuing. 

Goddamn Romulan son of a bitch hadn’t cut him any breaks. They, like Vulcans, were a damn sight stronger than their Earthly cousins, but unlike the Vulcans, had no restraint. It had made it all the more terrifying, knowing he was about to experience what getting hit by a sledgehammer on rage steroids was like. And, God, did it feel like that was ever what he did. 

He could only hazily recall any of it, what felt like  _ days _ aboard that damn ship, beaten, waterboarded, and of course that slug . . . . ah that slug. His throat was very seriously burning from stomach acid and bug juice, and his  _ back  _ rea _ llyfuckinghurt.  _ His spine and neck were aching at disgusting intensity, and his insides felt little better. 

_ Fuck.  _

He tried to focus on breathing, regulating uneven, wet gasps into something more normal, more manageable. His lungs and ribs were probably eight types of fucked, the CMO on  _ Enterprise  _ would certainly say. 

_ Enterprise. _ God, had Kirk managed to pull something out of his scrawny ass to save them? Jesus, he’d never hoped so much before for that to be the case. Crafty little asshole, he was. Maybe it had finally done him some good. 

His chest suddenly constricted, making him actually  _ whimper, _ as he went suddenly rigid and fought to bring uncooperative hands up, mind abruptly racing with unwanted memories. 

_ Nero, grinning, holding him by the shirtfront like a mere toy. “I have no use for you anymore,  _ Captain,  _ I would kill you . . . . but I think living with the knowledge  _ you  _ let me do this,  _ you _ gave up your planet . . . . I want you to think about that for however long your pitiful body manages to hold out.”  _

_ And then he punched Pike, directly between the eyes.  _

_ Crack. Black.  _

Pike gasped and desperately tried to force unresponsive eyes open, feeling the presence of  _ something _ almost on top of him. A dark presence. More than Aiel, than the Romulan torturers, even the devil Nero himself. This wasn’t just  _ bad, _ it was truly  _ evil.  _

When he finally managed to get a slice of air and vision, he looked up blearily and saw someone, some _ thing, _ kneeling over him. As oxygen made its way back into his slow brain, his vision sharpened and could make out what looked like an armour-covered figure. 

No, a . . . . a  _ machine.  _ But it’s eyes were all soul, deep in the sockets of a, a faceplate of some kind. They were yellow, glowing with disgust and hatred and instantly Pike felt afraid. Even more than he’d been with Nero. More than knowing he’d doomed his own planet, his own home. That was a realistic fear, but this, this was visceral. 

The creature reached down with one of its four (Christ, four?) limbs and settled on his chest, cat-like eyes coming closer and the sound of synthesized breathing giving the terrifying realization that yes, there was something alive in there, and it was very, very bad. 

It . . . .  _ coughed _ a few times, a deep, processed and painful sound, and then said,  _ “And who are you?”  _

It was a deep, dark voice, and any doubts vanished as to exactly what this thing was. Pure monster. 

_“You smell like Jedi.”_ There was such revulsion, such hate, that Pike had never been more relieved to not be something he wasn’t. _“Perhaps one of their_ diplomats.” Another word spat with heartfelt disgust. 

Another voice cut in from behind the demonic  _ thing, _ “No, General, I believe we have discovered something else, entirely. I do not sense the Force in him, not beyond a surface level.” And a tall, severe man stepped into view. 

Now if the machine had scared Pike, this guy was downright enough to make him shit himself. He was dangerous in a controlled, measured way, like a Vulcan but somehow totally different. He was the one to be afraid of between the two. He was in charge. 

Everything was in overdrive, especially the pain, but Pike managed to grit out, “Cap’n Cris’opher . . . . Pike, S’arfleet . . . .” 

The tall man chuckled, a very unnerving sound. “Indeed. Well,  _ Captain, _ you are obviously neither clone nor Jedi . . . . but you may hold value for the Republic, nonetheless.” His hawk eyes seemed to pierce into Pike and he half said to himself, “Yes, I do think so. General, take this,” his hand made a gesture of disgust,  _ “filth _ to a cell, and order your men to contact the Republic. I believe quid pro quo is now in effect.” 

‘Grievous’ laughed and glared down at Pike, bringing an arm up and backhanding Pike across the face. 

_ Crack.  _ Black. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi Council deliberates on the fate of Captain Pike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I don't like writing scenes like this one. If you've read my work before, you know I'm an action-centric writer, with dialog following as more of an afterthought, so this was actual hell to do. But I tried my best and I hope you enjoy it without nitpicking too hard :)

_ “Now if you don’t comply with our demands, the  _ Captain _ here will be publicly executed, and the footage sent to every available comm unit.” The Count smiled darkly. “And nothing would bring me more pleasure than exposing the ineptitude of the Jedi to the Republic. I await your response, Jedi.”  _

The holo disappeared and the room of Jedi masters stood or sat silently, each contemplating the message silently. It had begun with a short recording of the ‘Captain,’ laying on the floor of what appeared to be a shuttlepod, obviously in bad condition from they assumed a brutal beating or torture, and further footage of him stating his name and rank, almost mechanically. He was in desperate and likely deteriorating condition, that much was clear. 

“A trap, this may be,” Master Yoda eventually said after the long silence. 

“Or just a badly wounded man, perhaps a Captain of the Republic?” Master Ki Adi Mundi responded in his gentle tone. 

Master Plo Koon cleared his throat by way of disagreement.  _ “We have no reported missing non-clone soldiers or pilots.”  _

Obi Wan Kenobi had commed into the meeting, and his holo showed that he was exhausted but interested. He interjected, “Which still leaves a badly hurt civilian. Whom we’ve vowed to protect. Either way, we must rescue him.” 

Yoda tilted his head slightly and stared at Kenobi. “Suggest to trade with the terrorists, you do?” 

Kenobi hesitated slightly. “No, I propose rescue under the  _ guise _ of negotiation. Pretend to agree to their terms, get a meeting place, guarantee the Captain survives awhile longer. And once we’re in position, we would have the opportunity to strike a heavy blow to the Sith.” 

All were silent a moment again. 

Master Windu eventually met eyes with Kenobi and half-stated, “And you’ll be the negotiator?” 

“Naturally.” Kenobi’s tired eyes met everyone else’s. “I can get the location and broadcast it back. Four of five of our ships should be enough to finish the job. After I rescue the Captain, of course.” 

“Where one ship is, many others, there may be,” Yoda predicted direly. “The same strategy, the Sith will likely have. Outnumbered, we could well be.” 

“And I believe that is a chance we must risk.” 

Windu waved a hand dismissively. “He is but one man in a war, Kenobi. Is his life worth our soldier’s and our’s?” 

Kenobi’s eyes flashed, and he said flatly, “Dooku will undoubtedly do as he threatens, and when we have lost the trust of the people we will have lost our cause, and the war. As I said, I believe it is a risk we must take.” 

Silence again filled the room, but it was noticeably more tense than before. 

Yoda finally looked around at each member of the Council, present or there by holo, then said, “Join you, Masters Koon, Mundi, Fisto, and I, then will. Contact with Dooku, you may make." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with the Count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I'm loving this story but I'm having a helluva time writing it. Something I would rather read than write, but that ain't gonna happen so here we are. Anyway, because I'm struggling after powering through a couple chapters I'm gonna shut 'er down for the next five or so days, because I gotta work, to let it get some views and hopefully some support before continuing. Enjoy! :)

The loud sound of big, metal claws was what brought Pike from the darkness and into painful reality. He’d been carelessly dumped into a tiny room with a dirty floor that almost made him recoil, had he not been too wounded to do even that. As it was, he just laid there on his back, listening to those steps get closer and dreading it all the while. 

They stopped right outside and the door swished open, to reveal a robot-like creature standing there. While it was disturbing, it was relieving that it was not the ‘Grievous’ character. This one was skinny metal with a bullet-head and sightless indents as eyes. In its . . . . claws, he was going to guess, was a not very clean small container that it set down and slid across the floor to him. It’s other claw held some sort of blaster or phaser he’d never before seen. Which was par for the course, at this point. 

_ “The Count said to bring you sustenance,”  _ it explained in a robotic voice.  _ “Because you appear humanoid, there is water and provision bars.”  _ And it stepped back outside and locked the door shut behind itself. 

Pike just lay still for a long time, trying to quell the pain and trying to work up the nerve to move for the water. Food he didn’t think he could keep down, but water would be an absolute godsend. The slug had torn and scraped his throat all the way down, and with the stomach acid burning into it, it wasn’t getting any better. 

Funnily enough, he could compare it to several episodes of heartburn he’d often had in the past, but the other aches and pains from the torture were putting him into a more desperate and pained mindset. 

Just as he’d finally motivated himself to roll onto an elbow and explore the box container, the door again opened and the tall man stood there, staring at him with deadly eyes. 

“You must mean a great deal,” the man said. “For the  _ Jedi  _ to be willing to bargain for your life.” He said the word like Grievous did, with palpable malice and disgust. 

Pike didn’t have a response to that, so he continued to uncomfortably hold himself half on his side and half on a loudly complaining elbow, just staring rather stupidly at the man. 

“What are you to them?” the man asked himself, against studying Pike’s form with obvious contempt. “I don’t recognize your uniform. Are you a part of some secret new Republic force? Some anti-Seperatist military?” As Pike didn’t respond, he obviously grew more irritated and yelled, “Answer me!” 

Pike flinched and fell back onto his side with a pained grunt, confused as all hell and sure his face was showing it. He wasn’t exactly in the best state for emotional and facial control. 

The man clocked that and reigned his temper in, which appeared to be a difficult thing, and walked further into the room. “Are you afraid?” he asked a stock-still Pike, looking on from the floor and damn well just that. 

Danger time had started, if the pitch of his voice was any indication, and Pike knew better than to react in any way, lest he push further. 

The man stared down for a moment, feeling every emotion coming from his captive, though the Captain certainly didn’t know that. He also didn’t seem to recognize the Count, or Grievous, which was certainly curious. 

“Where are you from?” Dooku finally asked, seemingly placated by curiosity. 

Again Pike didn’t say anything, although it was more like he couldn’t even if he had wanted to, which he didn’t much. 

“Very well. I do hope you enjoy the Republic’s  _ hospitality, _ although you do not seem to know them. As long as I get what I want, I care nothing for you.” 

The  _ that much was obvious _ went unsaid, but Dooku certainly read it in Pike’s eyes. He scoffed and stepped out, door presumably auto-locking behind him. 

And Pike resumed trying to get to the water. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight sorry y'all for the short chapter and taking so long, I actually finished it up a couple days ago but forgot to post it because I very suddenly wound up working 8 days straight and only just remembered it. I'm going camping till I have to go back to work so I'll apologize in advance for any weirdness with the formatting, I'm posting from my phone.   
> Also I think I'm going to start looking for a new job so hopefully I'll have time to upload more regularly, y'know, when I don't live a full goddamn hour from where I work for 10 hrs a night, sometimes 2 days a week sometimes 12 days straight. All for $15 an hour. Whatever, if you're interested I'll keep ya updated, but anyway, hope you enjoy this shorter chapter!

Obi Wan was not entirely sure what he had been expecting; the holo that had shown the Captain before had been a fuzzy still-frame that showed very little detail. When the Count had escorted Kenobi and Clone company down to the cell, sullen but without objection, Obi Wan had certainly not expected to see a thin man standing against the far corner, bracing himself up precariously but all fight in his face. 

Dooku had actually laughed seeing that, no doubt because he knew with the Dark Side of the Force he could literally kill the man with a scant look or hand motion. Obi Wan, though, was just impressed and more than a little repulsed at the man’s poor state. Obviously the Count had not cared whether his prisoner died or not, because medical droids had certainly not stabilized the Captain. It was a painful feeling through the Force that Obi Wan actually had to mentally brace himself against, it was so strong. 

The Captain’s face was battered and still bleeding, especially across his right cheek and temple. His right ear was leaking red blood, as was his nose, which was puffy and likely broken. He had broken and cracked ribs that, from the expression on his pinched face, were desperately trying his resolve. Something was very wrong with his left hip and parts of his spine. And his internal organs . . . . Obi Wan almost didn’t have the mental capacity to even begin to process the damage there. 

“Great Force,” the Jedi Master whispered to himself. He motioned to Cody and the other Trooper. “Please, men.” He gently sent mental waves of Peace to the scared and battle-ready man. 

Pike himself was more than confused, he was actually pissed. Who the fuck were  _ these _ people? Who the fuck were the original captors? What the fuck did these fruitcakes want? 

Bizarrely, he felt his body and mind calming as the strangely armoured soldiers stepped toward him, but he mentally shoved that emotion away (another thing Obi was not expecting) and barred his teeth at them. He growled something low and unintelligible that stopped them for a moment, and they turned to look at their commander for orders. 

Obi just regarded Pike and looked perplexed, and the Count again laughed. “My dear General, I do so enjoy watching your pets turn against you.” 

Obi ignored him and again pushed mental and physical peace at Pike, this time more forcefully. Force-sake, he had three battalions in waiting for a fight! He just didn’t presently have time to play gentle nursemaid. 

This time, though it disgusted him, he played upon Pike’s bodily weaknesses and gently sent him to his knees, the fight draining from him and a depressingly grim acceptance thanking its place. Obi Wan didn’t like having to do so to the obviously very traumatized man, but there were at present much more pressing things, like surviving the next minutes. 

The troopers gently got him under the shoulders and boosted him up, and Cody injected him with a hypo of painkillers after taking one look at the Captain’s absolutely agonized face. 

Dooku, sensing what Obi had done, rumbled with no small satisfaction in his voice, “It would seem even the  _ Jedi _ are impatient with opposition, wouldn’t it.” He ignored Kenobi’s frosty look with long-earned practise. “How . . . .  _ ironic.”  _

Obi ignored him and instead stepped away from the door to allow his men through, both supporting the half-conscious Captain’s slight weight with little difficulty. 

They knew from the briefing before the actual engagement where they were to take him so they silently moved toward the shuttle bay. The dangerous part of the mission had officially begun. 

Dooku cleared his throat and lifted an eyebrow in that pretentious way Obi utterly despised. “My payment?” 

“You mean slaves,” Obi stated, having to practically grit the words out. 

The Count shrugged his total indifference. “Such slaves of yours fetch a high price in many places.” 

“They’re living beings,” Obi Wan immediately countered, voice hard. 

Another shrug. “Mentally and genetically so little different from droids.” Dooku’s eyes were hard. “And you’re stalling, General. Hand over the Clones.” 

He had negotiated the Captain for a squad of Clones that had waged a guerilla-style battle against him some time before after he had killed their Jedi General. They had expertly taken a heavy toll on his expendable ranks, and he wanted to extract their expertise from them and put them into his newest droids. Poetic, in a sense. 

The Clones were known as Keba Squad. They had obviously not been brought for exchange, and the fact Dooku had taken the Republic’s word was nothing short of miraculous. 

Cody and group were of course ready to imitate Keba Squad if necessary, but it was too late for that to be an option. 

Obi smiled at Dooku, who immediately knew he’d been had. 

“I’m afraid your  _ package _ has been delayed.” He stepped back and ignited his lightsaber. “You have my shallowest and most insincere condolences.” 


	5. Chapter 5

They had agreed that if at all possible they wanted to take the Destroyer ship intact, to access the internal records and drawn up battle plans. It would be a stunning blow to the Separatists, but it would be costly in Clone life to secure. It was only very begrudgingly that Windu got the three other Generals to agree, and only at the Batt' Comms (Clone Battalion Commanders) agreement. 

Elite Scouts wearing state-of-the-art transductive armor that could manually and automatically camouflage were the first deployed to destroy the generators, or at least the lighting and targeting systems to make it easier to target the enemy. 

The Scouts were followed by Special Forces Troopers like that of Keba Unit on far-ranging Diversion-and-Demoralize (D&D) missions. It was not very hard to scare a droid, it was hard to scare a Seppie. They were sure gonna give it their best shot. 

Gen. F. Tech. (General Field Techs), and Infantry units to respectively destroy and fight followed the S.F.T.'s, and were usually accompanied by Jedi if any were present. 

Mundi stayed with Infantry troops, Koon accompanied commanders or Scouts, and Windu was usually behaving as a Special Forces Trooper going ahead and beside and behind his own group and generally terrorizing everybody he could. 

Kenobi was a steady mix of the three, he had a regular small team to accompany him in Cody, and could function very well in any role. He preferred being on the front lines, of course, because listening to good men he knew die from relative safety was never enjoyable. There was something better to be said about being in the same circumstances, so the mind can fool itself into thinking 'I survived. Through skill or luck, I survived. He did not, but that isn't my fault, because I was there and I survived.' 

A very slippery slope of thinking. 

Dooku's fighting skills hadn't been nearly as surprised as the Count himself, even though Kenobi had attacked in a dishonorable way most Jedi would consider 'dirty' (meaning he attacked first and went for the quickest most efficient outcome: a kill). Dooku had snapped his own 'saber to light and parried a few blows before force-pulling a wall down on Kenobi and beating a hasty retreat, bellowing for his droids all the while. 

Dooku was a miraculous fighter, but he'd been caught flat-footed and off balance and he knew it. Best thing to do was repel boarders and retake the ship if possible. And Dooku thought it was possible. 

Obi shoved the rubble off and started running toward the shuttle, knowing Dooku would also be pointing the majority of his droids in that direction. 

Obi panted with urgency into his wrist gauntlet comm, "How's it going, Cody?" 

"He's practically dead weight, sir." Cody's voice would sound calm to anyone else, but Obi knew he was beginning to really worry. "We won't make it to the shuttle at this pace." 

Obi grimaced and pushed himself to run, more like limp at this point, faster. "Just hold on, I'm on my way. Are all of your men out?" 

"All except us and you, sir." And his tone said he was thinking they might not be able to get out of this one. His voice abruptly crackled over the comm again, even more urgency now and punctuated by blaster fire. "Coming under heavy fire, General, we're holding but barely!" 

Obi knew he was giving it all he could but nevertheless tried to put himself harder, feeling the cold touch of futility begin to brush his chest. 

With half an eye on this path ahead, he was frantically programming a short-wave call on scramble to General Koon, who had taken the Port side of the Destroyer and was, in theory, hopefully the closest to his position. 

"Kenobi," the Kel Dorian responded calmly, the sounds of battle around him not meshing with his tone. 

It never failed to amaze and, Obi admitted, slightly confused him, but he bounced back from it and set to business. Of the staying alive nature. 

"Positions of your troops?" 

"Throwing a defensive love up along the Port side. We have only managed to progress a dozen meters inside," his voice was heavy with distaste and sadness as he added, "And we have paid dearly for every centimeter of it." 

Obi grimaced and signed off, trying for Windu, who's battalion had taken the rear and engines. 

"Kenobi." The reply was also calm, but Mace had a level of cold dispassion and steel that few, much less someone as warm as General Koon, could emulate. Few would even want to emulate it, it often could get Windu in trouble. 

"How far has your batt' made it in?" Obi panted, wheeling yet another corridor in the hopeless maze. 

"Not nearly as far as you." Obi could hear the accusation, begrudging admiration, and irritance over the scrambled frequencies. 

Obi cursed to himself quietly and again switched his call, to Ki Adi Mundi, who had taken the Starboard side and by all rights the furthest away from Kenobi and his troops from the beginning of the battle. 

"General," another soft-spoken man out of place in battle. 

While men like Mace Windu had been born to fight, there were many of those among the Jedi ranks that had to learn to be proficient, if not thrilled, at it. Master Mundi was one of those Jedi, and not a bit embarrassed about it. 

While Plo Koon and Obi Wan maintained a fairly middle-of-the-road perspective, neither could deny that battle had an exciting high to it, and it was easy to become addicted. 

"How far has your battalion made it?" Obi knew the desperation in his voice would not weigh lightly on the General. 

There was indeed silence for a long moment, before Mundi's voice came back on the air, his voice knowing and sad. "I'm afraid not nearly far enough, my friend." 

Obi sighed to himself, which on scramble he knew would probably sound like passing gas and be generally most disrespectful. "Understood. Do not fall back, hold what you have. We need to get the Captain to safety." 

He turned a corner and finally came upon Cody and Gip, the other highly decorated Trooper. They had taken cover in a small until inlet of a wall, Gip kneeling and firing under Cody when they could. Thirty droids, ten battle and the rest regular, were slowly advancing on them. 

And they were probably beginning to run out of charges. 

Obi used since of the last of his strength to Force-pull the droids toward him, 'saber at the ready, and cut half of them from groin to chin. Cody and Gip stepped from the wall and finished the rest. 

Pike had been behind them, mostly protected, and had a small blaster in his hands that Obi recognized as Cody's backup weapon. 

Cody had really thought things were going to get bad, then. 

Pike had spit up blood, and very quietly, through what Obi could only guess was a sense of honestly misplaced dignity, wiped it from his chin with a trembling and already copper-smeared hand without a word. 

When Obi, who had also noticed, curiously reached into his thoughts for any clue as to why he wasn't more concerned, he was much more horrified to 'feel' the man silently considering the wet sloshing of his insides at every step, mentally and externally seemingly unperturbed. The Captain mentally acknowledged that yes, it was most certainly probably blood, and yes, internal bleeding was a sign he was not doing very well, but he seemed very cavalier about it all. 

He could also feel . . . . Obi Wan frowned in puzzlement. Was that . . . . air? It felt like air painfully squeezing into and out of his body, creating even more unwanted pressure around the badly damaged internal organs and honestly how was this man not on the ground screaming right now? 

Obi shoved away the alarming problems for the moment and barked, "Let's go!" 


	6. Chapter 6

A half-dozen Clones of Cody’s choice were guarding the shuttle, all carefully bunkered into various cover and watching the corridors like hawks. Cody was careful to send the pre-agreed upon call-frequency over the comm before rounding the final corners, so they wouldn’t be accidentally blasted into oblivion. 

They rushed through the lines and into the battle shuttle, the rows of Troopers falling back and covering behind them. They had to drag Pike the last ten meters or so; his legs had all but given out and he was teetering on the edge of consciousness from the pain. He kept trying to get his legs under him and help, because it hurt his insides less, but everytime he brought a leg up bloody pain exploded from his back and pelvis. It hurt his guts and chest to be drug along, and he knew it was harder on the men that had him. Of course, he didn’t really know who they were so he wasn’t sure if he  _ should _ be helping them along. 

The Troopers drug the half-unresponsive Captain into the shuttle and fell back to the door, as Kenobi himself and the remaining men rushed inside. 

“Is that everyone?” Obi Wan about yelled at Cody as he moved to one of the many dormant Med Droids along the Port side, docked in their charging stations. 

Unlike most M.D.’s, the ones on Battle Shuttles had the programming removed for “useless chatter,” so the ‘roid just did a scan of the room and moved toward the most wounded in the room. Pike, as the case was. The two Med Troopers, Chain and Aita, also started assisting. They injected more downers and laid Pike out on his back, cutting away his tattered yellow shirt to get where they needed. The ‘roid started comprehensive medical scans and began prepping tools and equipment. 

Obi was at the Weapons Console studying the Scout’s reports overlaid by a ship-wide map of enemy positions. Kill Teams (K.T.’s) were impossible to use with the newest models of droids on the ship that constantly shared data between them in a step-ladder hierarchy system. Kill one, another took its place. All the way down to the common-most batt ‘roid. Their new programming would, when called on, override their base commands and they would become a commanding ‘roid. And the entire ship had been filled with them. It was a massive change to the game. 

“And we still need to wait until targeting is down to move.” Obi uncharacteristically growled something nasty-sounding under his breath and slammed a palm on the console, making the holos shake. The nearby Troopers, through carefully schooled poker-faces, exchanged glances. 

“Stress,” Cody had said before the mission, as the Batt Comms gathered in the mess to discuss it. “The General’s under a lot of pressure, we have to make sure he isn’t trying to handle everything on his own.” 

Cody gave Obi Wan a knowing nod and moved for the quieter cockpit, his G.C. (gauntlet comm) already set for Windu’s Batt Comm, CT-777or Trip Sev, Ki Adi’s B.C., CC-1138 Bacara, and of course Wolffe. 

“Fall back,” he ordered over the joint-scramble. “Booby-trap everything you can with charges and frags. The ‘roids are all C.S.D., there’s thousands onboard. Have K.T.’s disable weapons and nav systems and anything else they can.” 

He signed off after hearing the confirmation codes, knowing the respective Generals would likely question it for a moment or two but would follow through. He had earned a good reputation through General Kenobi, and those of the Council that still went into battle had learned, sometimes the hard way, to trust his judgement. 

Slowly, they watched from the tac. map as Troopers faded back to their shuttles and got gone. Eventually, even the K.T.’s started beating it back to safety. 

Cody held a hand up amidst the shuttle chatter to listen to his ear comm, and reported, “All units out, three B.T.’s detonated so far. Estimated a couple dozen ‘roid deaths.” 

“Fek,” someone muttered, and Cody silently agreed. That was just too few for comfort. 

The Shuttle jerked and rumbled as they finally pulled away from the ship, hoping that targeting and weapons systems were actually down. 

Pike hissed as he was jostled around, scarcely conscious but pain still cutting through his hypo-dulled senses. “Kriff, sorry,” Aita muttered, sparking some laughter around him. 

Even the lines around Obi Wan’s mouth eased slightly, but he continued staring hard at the tac. map. All of the troops had been successfully evacced, even eighty percent of the dead and wounded clones had been offloaded. But there was a thirty percent loss in Trooper lives across the board, a number entirely too high. 

As Obi turned and regarded Pike for a long minute, Cody knew exactly what he was thinking. 

_ You better have been worth it. _

* * * * * 

All shuttles successfully made it back to their respective Capital Ships, and Obi Wan immediately went to the briefing room to have a holo conversation with the other three involved Generals. 

Plo Koon was the first to break the silence. “How is the Captain?” 

“Fine. He’s resting now in a bacta tank. His injuries were quite severe.” 

“Yes, I glanced at the medical report placed by your ‘Chain and Aitia,’” Mace said, disapproval for what he called ‘pet names’ thick in his voice. Everyone just ignored him. “They noted some key differences in his DNA and phenotypes to anything on record. Is bacta even going to be effective?” 

Obi Wan hesitated for a moment. “We are unsure. And while you are correct, his genetic traits seem closest to Clones so we are . . . . cautiously optimistic about the use of bacta.” 

The other two hummed their understanding. “It is a good thing we managed to rescue him,” Ki Adi said, glancing at a holo report. “According to the report, he was very near to death.” 

Plo Koon shifted uncomfortably. “At the hands of the Sith?” 

Obi shook his head. “I doubt it, I could not sense the Darkness on him, other than Dooku, and even that was slight.” 

There was a sudden burst of what sounded like static from Plo Koon’s side, and the Jedi master’s expression flashed with fear and confusion as he whirled, ‘saber flying to his hand and lighting. 

“Grievous is here!” he said, before disappearing from view. 

A visible chill fell over the remaining three. 

“We’ve been set up,” Windu said angrily. 

Kenobi was, again, the closest to Plo’s Capital Ship. “I’m en route,” he said shortly before literally running from the room and yelling over comms for his Troops to get back into the shuttle. He was worried they were already too late. 


	7. Chapter 7

“General Koon,” Grievous rumbled, two of four ‘sabers in his hands. 

He was surrounded in a half-circle by clones, with Plo Koon at the very head, but it did not appear to bother him. A Clone sniper had also taken up position behind and above him in lieu of a full patrol, to prevent cross-fire fatalities. 

Plo nodded his head once in acknowledgement of the greeting, but did not volunteer anything else. 

Grievous laughed at that.  _ “You were lucky enough to get away from me once,  _ General, _ but you won’t this time.”  _

“Fire!” Wolffe yelled, opening up the ball with his own rifle. 

Grievous almost appeared to smile as he whirled to block the charges, scattering Clones with the ricochets. 

Plo felt a sinking in his chest as he realised his Troopers were going to be slaughtered. 

_ “Fall back!” _ he ordered.  _ “Fall back now!”  _

Wolffe, and many others, obviously wanted to argue but knew better, and started to slowly back off. The sniper disappeared into the shadows. 

Grievous once again looked like he would be smiling.  _ “Scared,  _ Jedi?” 

Koon didn’t dignify that with a response, simply moved forward and slammed his ‘saber into Grievous’s right arm, burning it through and pulling back sharply, dislodging the ‘saber and taking it from him before force-pushing him into the wall. He moved into a ready stance and waited. 

Grievous scrambled up, mentally kicking himself for choosing to sneak onto Koon’s transport as opposed to Mundi’s or Kenobi’s. He had decided from the beginning that Windu’s would be ill-advised; he was a war-time General, an excellent fighter and out of Grievous’ class. He had assumed the opposite of Plo Koon from their last encounter, and he now realised that he had been very, very wrong. 

Plo could sense the desperation mounting in Grievous, and that he was beginning to look for a way out.  _ “Surrender, General.” _

Grievous sneered, mentally shoving away his trepidation.  _ “Never!”  _ He jumped towards Plo, additional ‘sabers and arms coming down to strike. 

Plo ducked under and back, feeling the hum of the Force flow through him and allowing it to sharpen his reflexes. He again disarmed, quite literally, Grievous of another ‘saber, calmly dismantling it in a short second and throwing the pieces all over. Several buried themselves into Grievous’ armour, and he hissed in pain and anger. 

_ “For that, I will take your lightsaber and cut you to pieces with it,”  _ he growled.  _ “Your  _ Jedi _ will find you in chunks of quivering meat!”  _

Koon simply used the Force to grab him and pull him forward, slicing a foot from him as he slid past, and slamming him hard into a wall. He again went into a ready stance. 

_ “Surrender, General.”  _

Grievous was panting in anger and now in fear. 

Slowly, he dropped his final two ‘sabers to the floor. He slumped back against the wall and watched dismally as Plo used the force to crush both beyond repair. 

Without deactivating either of the ‘sabers he was holding, because he didn’t trust Grievous at all, Plo commed Wolffe and Kenobi. 

He took his eyes from Grievous for one moment to scramble the transmission and when he looked back, the General was writhing on the floor, clutching his neck and clearly panicking. 

He had time only to look in fear at a perplexed Plo Koon before a loud  _ snap! _ and he fell to the floor so loosely Plo immediately knew he was dead. 

The feeling of the Darkness filled the corridor so strongly it  _ hurt,  _ and Plo heard a voice clearly say,  _ “The Sith will never surrender.”  _

* * * * *

Everything was warm and wet. It was a strange, not unpleasant feeling that slowly brought Chris from the black of unconsciousness. For several long moments he contented himself just to lay there, dozing happily. 

And then everything jerked. And then everything hurt. 

_ “Fuck!”  _ he barked, trying to sit up and relieve some of the absolute pain that was flashing through him. 

A hand immediately came down on his chest. “Easy now, Captain. We’re tryin’ to help you, but we can’t have you movin’ around on us.” And then quieter, not directed at him, “General, he’s awake.” 

Pike forced himself to relax. He wanted to know what was going on, where he was, and how to get back to where he needed to be. To do that, first he’d need to get his eyes open. 

The man who had talked to him noticed that and got a hand under his back. “Well, here, let’s try to get you sittin’ up. Maybe that’ll help.” 

It hurt, but it definitely helped. The pressure that had been building in his back released, and though his head felt like he’d been swung in several circles, it wasn’t hurting as badly. And he was finally able to get his eyes open. 

The man was wearing heavy armour, and mentally Pike was able to connect it to that of the men who’d taken him from the  _ ‘Dooku’ _ character. The man was also offering a canteen. 

Feeling his burning, itchy throat, Pike was quick to take it. 

“Easy now,” the man said, helping him get the canteen up to his mouth. “You don’t wanna be sick.” 

Pike mentally agreed and was careful to only take a few mouthfuls before giving it back. “Who are you?” he eventually managed to grit. He sounded like his favorite hobby was chugging broken glass for hours at a time. 

“I’m CT-945,” he said. At Pike’s look of total non-understanding, he added, “Call me Cahin.” 

Pike just nodded. He felt like shit and was sure he looked it, too. 

Another man walked over, Pike just noticing that they were in a small and secluded room. Chris recognized him as the man who had been in charge of the operation. 

“Who are you?” he asked, again groaning internally at the bad sound of his voice. 

The man, who was wearing the same mish-mash of armour and tunic-things as during the battle, nodded to him and motioned Cahin away. When Cahin left, the man seemed to relax slightly as he settled into a chair. Not much. 

“I’m General Obi Wan Kenobi. I’m from the Jedi Order on Coruscant and I represent the Republic Army.” He stared at Pike, who was obviously confused as hell. 

Chris slowly scanned the room, still feeling blood on his skin and wincing slightly at it. What he wouldn’t give for a shower. “You obviously aren’t a . . . . small army,” he eventually said. “But I don’t--” 

Obi Wan held up a hand. “I understand. You, you don’t understand anything going on here, do you?” 

Pike almost scoffed, but settled for just shaking his head. “Not one goddamn thing.” 

Obi Wan himself almost laughed. “I can certainly tell you aren’t, your expressions are . . . . most unique.” He shifted in his chair and sighed. “The question remains, why  _ are _ you here? And why were you Dooku’s captive?” 

Pike met his eyes frankly. “Honestly? I don’t fuckin’ know.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys it’s been a minute since I’ve been in the mood to get anything done, I have a lot of responsibilities right now and a lot of hobbies other than writing that clamor for my attention, so it took me longer than usual to get this written and edited to a place I felt okay with it. As always, I hope you enjoy and leave your thoughts, comments motivate me and help me to keep writing! Have a great day, guys!

Obi Wan left Pike then, something that he’d sensed during their conversation troubling him deeply. He was tired, though. So tired. He couldn’t exactly explain what he’d felt. 

The trip back to Coruscant would be several days more, Dooku had taken them far from their established territory. Obi would have time to rest and revisit the feeling. 

He sighed and course-corrected from his quarters to the nearest cafeteria. He was exhausted but hadn’t been able to sleep for days. 

The steps of a Trooper came in behind him and Obi stiffened, then relaxed as Cody said, “Just me, sir.” 

Obi sighed. “Shouldn’t you have gone to Med for the blaster burn on your arm, Cody?” 

Cody snorted, making Obi smile a bit. “And have one of those ‘roids poke at me? The burn’s hardly that bad, sir. And shouldn’t you be getting sleep?” 

Obi hummed to himself. “You have me there.” 

Cody said softly, “You can’t run on Caf forever, sir.” 

“No. No I can’t.” Obi stopped and looked back at Cody. “Fine. You go to Med, I’ll get some sleep. Deal?” 

Cody just grinned and Obi realized it had been Cody’s plan all along, at the expense of some skin. “Deal.” 

* * * * *

Obi sat bolt upright in bed, his mental clock putting him at a full day of deep sleep. But he wasn’t concerned with that. 

He swung from his bunk and started moving toward the Comm center, brisk but controlled. 

The aide, a new transfer if Obi recalled correctly, startled at his appearance and half-jumped to his feet. “Sir!” 

Obi smiled at him, glad to be feeling at least somewhat rested and mentally capable again. “Can you get me a secure transmission to Master Plo Koon?” 

The aide gawped a moment then nodded hard. “Uhh, yessir. If he’s on the bridge or not in his quarters or--” 

Obi nodded placatingly. “Of course. If you please . . . .” 

* * * * *

_ “Are you quite certain?” _ Plo Koon asked, concern touching his voice. 

“Yes.” Obi Wan’s face was hard with thought. After a moment he said, “I would like for you to come talk to him for yourself. Mundi and Windu, as well. We can halt the convoy for a time, the Council will understand after we explain.” 

_ “Indeed.” _ Plo thought for a moment, expression unreadable.  _ “I will contact the other Masters, if you will send a message to the Council. We must investigate this.”  _

* * * * *

The next time Chris woke up, there were other voices in the room. Four . . . . things, standing in a circle and talking quietly. His, well,  _ everything  _ still hurt like the devil and he didn’t want to move, and he wasn’t sure exactly what they wanted anyway. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because the man he’d talked to earlier, Kebab or something, turned and made a motion to the others. And what a group they were, too. Kenai-whatever and another one looked human, but the other two were something else entirely. One had a tall, fleshy head with a Fu Manchu thing going, and the other looked slightly scaly and had a mandible-mask and goggles on. What a culture he’d stumbled into. 

Keebler walked over and gently helped him get slightly vertical on the bed, wincing with every pain-filled hiss he gave. 

Everything on his insides felt like it was grating and cutting, likely from when they’d kicked him so hard and so many times he’d puked. They must be cutting the painkillers, then. He could feel bones shifting where they weren’t supposed to, and the moment he’d moved his hip had started shooting waves of horrific pain through his body. 

That he’d only managed to  _ hiss  _ in pain was an achievement in itself. 

When the pain settled enough for him to be able to breathe and open his eyes, he saw all four of the . . . . people clustered around him. 

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Chris finally snapped, “Well what?” 

His voice came out more of a weak grumble, but the point got across as the darker human’s face squinched in irritation. 

“There was another organism inside of you,” he half-growled. “Attached to your spine, pumping toxins into you.” 

Chris winced so hard it hurt. “Centaurian Slug.” His rasping tone reflected just how much he hated and feared it, and how much pain it had caused him. 

The dark human, thoroughly unmoved, continued, “It left more of itself behind; children, if you will.” 

Pike’s brain completely shorted out for a long instant, before the pure disgust took total control and he lurched from the cot, heaving. He didn’t make it far, couldn’t, between the bad shape he was in and the three people who immediately grabbed him to keep him from falling onto the floor. Which left him unpleasantly half-slumped by aching ribs over the sharp edge of the cot as he puked water and dark blue fluid onto the floor. 

Though he couldn’t know it, the three more empathetic Jedi, and even the one who wasn’t trying very hard, could distinctly feel his pain and were trying to help by pushing feelings of calm to him. Chris however, even subconsciously, had always considered himself a contrary motherfucker and was having none of it. He had parasites. From that goddamned Slug.  _ Parasites.  _

He retched for a long time, intermittent with near-screams from the terrible pain that came with his beaten body squeezing itself hard enough to retch, like it was wringing out a rag. 

Windu left before very long, saying something about reading the reports later. It didn’t take a mind reader to feel the flash of tension that caused, ‘cause Pike sure as hell did even in his pitiful situation. He, at least, was thoroughly unimpressed with it. 

After entirely too long he could finally stop, and wasn’t surprised to feel hot wet tears around his eyes from the strain and hurt. The normal-looking guy, Chris had now forgotten his name completely, helped him sit up against the wall again. Pike was listing hard to his left and forward, and it was obvious he’d been about drained of his wakefulness for the day. 

The brown-haired guy, his name started with a K or a J, Pike hazily recalled, put a gentle hand on his shoulder and offered a warm smile. “We’ll have our medics do what they can, but we won’t be able to do anything major until we get planetside, okay?” 

Chris nodded tiredly, unconsciously leaning into the warmth of KJ’s hand before stopping himself with a sharp mental slap. 

Obi saw and smiled softly to himself. “You’d better rest as much as possible until then, Captain. You’ll need your strength.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the latest installment, and apparently my decision to begin deviating from canon. Hope you enjoy and please your thoughts and suggestions, they really help me decide what direction I want to take the story. Have a great day, guys!

Aita and the Med ‘Roid managed, somehow, to get a sample of blood and tissue infected with the microscopic slug eggs to study. The comprehensive report was sent ahead of them to the Temple, and deeply disturbed those who read it. Barbaric creatures, used for barbaric practices. Torture chief among them. 

It had torn and ripped its way down the Captain’s mouth and throat, tearing through his internals and digging through meat to attach to his central nervous system. Whereupon it released toxins they couldn’t identify that were continuing to wreak havoc on his body. It had contributed to the damage physically inflicted on him by not allowing him to heal. 

It was utterly reprehensible. Of course, in usual fashion, the Council was seemingly unconcerned with this obscenity and more focused on berating Obi Wan for going after the man in the first place, because ‘he didn’t know anything of use.’ 

In the moment, Kenobi barely held his temper in check. As soon as the holo-conducted meeting had ended he stalked down to the training center to be angry and punch things, since the Force was unwilling to work with him in such a mood. 

He was most of the way through a particularly strenuous and precise routine of hand-to-hand when he felt a brush on his mind and his comm link vibrate. Ahsoka. 

He dropped from the stance immediately and sat against the wall, tired but feeling better than when he’d started. He was still tired, but that was becoming a rapidly permanent state. He brushed the hair out of his eyes, he needed to get it cut, and activated the comm. 

The Togruta youngling appeared and smiled at him. “Master Kenobi.” 

“Ahsoka.” His voice wasn’t cold, but it didn’t hold its usual warmth either. He simply didn’t have the energy. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Her shrewd eyes studied him a moment and he felt a flash of self-consciousness. “I may have something you’d like to hear.” 

* * * * *

Obi Wan was once again sitting by Pike’s cot when he woke up, staring at nothing and looking as shitty as Chris felt. 

“Life’s a bitch, huh?” he rasped, not daring to get up and contenting to stare at the ceiling. Maybe between him and the alien General, they could conjure up some answers. 

He felt Kenobi’s eyes touch him for a moment, the slide back to the floor. “Though I do not know that particular colloquialism, yes.” 

Chris hummed in agreement. “Something pissed you off,” he guessed. 

Obi Wan never failed to be surprised by the perception of regular creatures. Though his masks were probably not at their best right now. 

“Yes.” Obi shifted in his chair, looking over at Pike and showing he was moving on to something he’d rather talk about. “Where do you call home, Captain?” 

He watched Pike think about that a moment, eyes becoming sad. “Originally a little planet called Earth, in the desert. Then a star ship.” He had to pause to cough and find the damnable sippy cup of water they had left him. When he could stand the burn in his throat, he rasped, “But it’s maybe all destroyed now. That damn Romulan . . . .” he had to pause again, but it wasn’t due to his throat this time. He needed a moment to hold his anger and sadness. “He probably destroyed it all.” 

He sighed from deep down, and Obi Wan could feel the guilt inside. He couldn’t think of anything worth saying, so he just sat there. Pushing soothing feelings toward the man had proven to have a less than desired effect, so he didn’t bother. 

“I was the one who gave them the security codes,” Pike said after a long moment, sounding very small and broken. “To get past our borders.” 

Obi did have things he could say about that and grunted. “Obviously not voluntarily.” 

“No, but I still did.” Pike shuddered at the memory. It felt like he spent years in that hellscape of a ship. It was probably only hours, but it didn’t feel like it. 

Obi swept away any thoughts or feelings of pity, he was sure the Captain would be more angry at them than anything else. “I’ve been there before. Torture,” he admitted. He swallowed and rested his elbows on his knees, right hand cradling his chin. “A few times. A few too many.” 

Neither had anything to add to that. 

“So what happens to me?” Chris asked suddenly. 

There was a bitter note to his voice Obi hadn’t heard before, and he glanced over at Pike with unconcealed concern. “What do you mean?” 

Pike couldn’t really shrug from a laying down position, but if ever there was a facial version, he was wearing it. “I’m an alien. Trespassing. In most societies, that wouldn’t spell out a good future for me.” 

Obi Wan actually  _ snorted, _ which was even jarring to Chris, and leaned back in his chair to join in staring at the ceiling. “I’m sure you’ll have to answer some questions from the Senate and the Jedi Council, but you should be free to go after that.” 

Pike obviously didn’t know what to make of that. “Go where? I was thrown through literal  _ time and dimension  _ to get here.” 

That only gave the man a moment’s pause. “There’s always something you could pick up. You’re a Captain. I’m assuming not military, but politically or organizationally, right?” 

Chris closed his eyes, trying to resign himself to the fact he was alive and here to stay. 

Obi sensed he was done talking and stood up. “We’re making a brief stop and then we’ll be only a day away from Coruscant. I’ll see you then?” 

Pike nodded and tried to decide if life was going to be worth living in this god-awful reality. 

* * * * *

He sensed him long, long before he saw him. 

Darkness, and Light. Mingling to nearly perfect harmony, but not completely. Unlike the Jedi, perfect harmony was not something the Grey tended to absolutely believe in. 

He was a somewhat average looking man, not tall but physically commanding. He was obviously wholly at home in his own skin, something Obi Wan felt a brief flash of envy for. He wore a rebreather mask and more armour than most Jedi Masters, and had a blaster rifle strapped across his back. His silver/black eyes met theirs evenly, without hostility but with only limited patience, something Jedi had experienced across the board with their limited exposure to those of the Grey Code. They were busy, and they didn’t mind showing it. 

“I’m Iosef,” the Grey said, voice slightly muffled by the mask. “And you’re a  _ long  _ way out of your territory.” His eyes were amused. “Now what could cause that?” 

And he didn’t miss a trick, Obi thought half bitterly. 

He felt Iosef use the Force to brush his mind gently, and probably wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t been attempting to do the same thing. Iosef’s eyes showed vague humor at the interaction, and withdrew. Not before sensing something that made him palpably curious. 

“You were one of Ahsoka Tano’s masters,” he said matter of factly. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So begins total diversion from either Universe's canon, I guess. Shorter chapter today, but updated sooner than usual so I hope that kind of balances out. Don't forget to let me know what you think about everything and to leave suggestions, I do seriously consider them! Hope y'all enjoy!

If Obi had much less control of himself, he would have been scraping his jaw from the dirt. As it was, he simply said, “Ahsoka told me where to find you, she said you had an urgent message.” 

Iosef seemed to smile slightly at that before his face resumed being business-neutral. “You have a Sith in the Senate.” 

If Obi was shocked before, nothing even covered the chill he then felt. “Excuse me?” 

“Darth Sidious is his real name, but he goes by Palpatine.” The Grey started to pace between trees. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him, because we couldn’t be sure. But it’s becoming increasingly obvious, and none of you have caught on.” 

“Pardon me for being skeptical,” Obi Wan said, irritation touching his voice. “But we have certainly have noticed his presence in the Force, there is no way--” 

Iosef turned and harshly cut in, “Your use of the Force  _ blinds _ you, Jedi. You cherry-pick items to believe in, and totally disregard others, just like the Sith.” He took a moment to calm down, then said, “It is not difficult to hide a presence when you know what is being ignored.” His off-smile only wrinkled one side of his face for a brief moment. “I’ve been in close proximity with you and other Jedi before, and with Sidious. No one other than Ahsoka, and more recently, you, has ever noticed.” 

Obi frowned and simply asked, “How?” He shook his head and amended, “How could either Ahsoka or I know if you’re as good as you say?” 

The off-smile again. “Because you aren’t particularly invested in your beliefs, if you’ve noticed.” He resumed pacing. “You’re losing faith in your ideals, you’re feeling more turbulent emotions. And they aren’t hurting you like your Council said they would, they’re helping.” He actually chuckled. “Your Master Windu, he is more Grey than even he wants to believe, but he enjoys the power of the Council too much to change, even if we would accept him in our ranks, which isn’t likely. But you, you’re different.” 

Obi Wan was unnerved, and well aware what they were discussing would not be viewed favorably by the Council. But he was also very curious. Because everything that the Grey had said so far was right. He was losing his faith. “How am I different?” He allowed a self deprecating laugh. “I’m hardly even a good Jedi Master.” 

“You’re wrong about that.” Iosef’s small smile faded completely. “And the man onboard your ship, Pike?” He met Obi’s confused eyes. “He’s important. Very important. Things are changing dramatically, and bad things are coming. The Force is heavy with it. I feel it, and you feel it. His involvement, even indirectly, will change everything.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Can’t you feel it? I know you have.” Iosef stood straighter. “I don’t know why Pike is here, but before he was the future was looking to be very, very bleak. When he was brought, or sent, here, everything changed. Now,” he shrugged. “Maybe the Universe has a chance.” 

* * * * *

“Sir.” 

Kirk looked up at Bones, and the Doctor felt the anger and sadness like a physical blow. Somehow, the kid still managed to smile and try some humor. “Who the fuck are you talking to?” 

“You.” 

“I’m not a ‘sir.’” 

“You are now.” Bones punched his shoulder. “Congratulations, Captain. Your promotion just came in.” 

Kirk’s pained face brightened considerably. “Really? I thought Spock was gonna get it.” 

“He declined.” 

Jim actually frowned at that and tried to slide off the biobed. “No way--” 

McCoy stopped him with a firm hand and said, “Absolutely not, you’re staying right there. I can have the green-blooded Martian come down here himself if you need to talk, but there’s no way in hell you’re leaving Sickbay, much less this bed.” 

Jim grumbled something but settled back down, plucking his PADD from under his pillow and staring at the endless alerts on the shipwide blueprint. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, well, Scotty’s already got half of the ship fixed, so it used to be a lot worse.” McCoy squinted between the display above Kirk and down at his own Medical PADD. He touched a dosage on the display and raised it slightly. “You know that you’re supposed to tell me when something hurts.” 

“Nothing hurts,” Kirk grumbled, but the lines on his face eased as the medication kicked in. 

“Uh huh, sure.” McCoy scrutinized the charts a moment more before looking back down at Kirk. “You’ve been strutting around since that dumbass drill landing with cracked  _ ribs, _ genius. And since you never  _ told _ me, you’ve only made it worse. And then the damage that Romulan bastard did to your neck was pretty extensive, too.” He shoved a plastic cup of water with a straw in Kirk’s face. “Drink this.” 

Jim’s face wrinkled but he did as he was told. His expression got more disgusted. “Good God, what’d you put in that?” 

“Nothing. That taste is what happens when your mouth turns to hamburger after you only drink coffee for a goddamn week, dumbass.” 

“Oh.” Kirk looked back at his PADD. “Bones, when can I get out of here? I’ve got work to do.” 

“Like what? Standing around and glaring at people?” McCoy turned off Kirk’s PADD and took it from him. “After some sleep, you can go.” 

Kirk was known for being stubborn enough to get whatever he wanted, but so was McCoy. Jim glared at his friend for a moment before he mumbled, “Fine. But after that I want my PADD back. We get this ship fixed, and then we’re going after Pike.” 

Leonard didn’t bother saying how difficult that was going to be, everyone else already had and it wasn’t proving to be worth the effort. “Alright. To do that you need to sleep, so go to sleep.” 

“Quit mothering me.” 

“Quit acting like a child.” 


	11. New Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’ve been watching an old series on Netflix and it’s been floating around in my head. So to no one’s surprise, it is added! Hope y’all enjoy!

He was dragging himself along the corridors, legs having given out the moment he'd tried to use them. Nowhere near a hundred percent right now, or even twenty five. But he needed to get to a weapon. 

The ship was burning, he could smell and hear the telltale signs. He didn’t know anything about this vessel, but he knew a dying craft when he saw, or rather heard, one. God knew he’d been on too many. And this one had hit the surface of somewhere with too much speed for the people at the controls to have been alive. 

He wasn’t making great progress, inching himself along with only his arms, dragging the rest of his unresponding body along bit by painful bit. The room he'd been sleeping in was already filled with smoke, if not flames by now, so at least he wasn’t there. 

The decking in this ship was sharp, with jutting corners that bit hard into his body and tried to trap him, but he kept managing to squirm or even tear away when he had to. He was at least fairly sure that he’d cut or ripped all his stitches out and was maybe dragging some intestine along, but he couldn’t afford the energy to check. He just had to keep moving. 

Someone kicked him in the side, hard. It drove him across the decking into the paneling and he felt another gash open up across his ribs from slicing along the edge. His shirt was already a sopping mess but he didn’t consider it very helpful. 

“Blood trail over half the damn ship and this banged up piece of rubbish is what’s leavin’ it?” 

Laughter, mocking but not without a little admiration. 

Pirates. Great. 

The boot again crashed low and shoved his bad hip into the wall with mind-numbing force. Chris remembered the scream he’d made when Nero broke his two two right floating ribs, and it was close to the one he made then. Total, mind-consuming agony. 

Everything was here colder. It wasn't just the white armor or the pristine, clinical cleanness of the ship it was the actual temperature of everything, at least five or ten degrees colder than his lowest preferred temp. Especially the bacta tanks. Maybe that was what yanked him out of the little red world of pain he was living in, or maybe it was gunfire. But either way, he was brought back from painful pain to painful reality, and looked up into a dark green pair of cargo pants and black tactical boots. 

In a glowing instance of connect-the-dots, he mentally associated that boot with the one that had just moved him at a high rate of speed and moaned low (it made his face turn red but goddamn he couldn’t help it), and tried to continue pulling himself away from the pirate. 

“Well for heaven’s sake—” Whomever was in the boots moved in front of him, standing so Pike would either have to go through him or stop, and Chris decided he wasn’t going to tempt fate. 

He didn’t know what the hell the pirates of this place wanted, but him dead didn’t seem to be it so far. In his universe or time or whatever, the Federation could and would trade for captives, but he couldn’t know whether that was the case here or not. 

So he stopped moving, let his head drop to the burningly cold metal decking and waited to be either shot or . . . . well, he didn’t really know. 

“Sir, two of them got away.” 

“Beatin’ meat and feet in hasty retreat, huh?” Nobody laughed, but Chris considered it for a second. “Oh well. Carter, Teal’c, start searching bodies. I want to know what kind of guns and gear they’ve got, they look weird. Daniel, can you patch into a computer or something here? This thing crashed into our Gate, and I want to know why.” 

There was a small chorus of ‘yes-sirs’ and then the feeling of eyes touched the back of Pike’s head. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re beat up.” The man—it sounded like a man, anyway—knelt down and gently lifted the back of his shirt up, getting a decent look at the damage of his back and sides. “Ho-ly hell. Teal’c, when you’re finished you better gimme a hand here. We gotta get this guy back through the Gate before he bleeds out.” 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I’ve said it before, but if I haven’t, thank you all so very much for the support and encouragement you’ve been leaving the comments, they always make my day. Hope y’all enjoy this chapter, and feel free to leave me suggestions, I’ll do my best to incorporate them.   
> Have a great day - AJ

“What happened?” 

Both Force users locked eyes as the feeling had passed through the Force, and Kenobi tried desperately to raise someone—anyone—on the comms. No luck so far. 

“Cody?” Static. “Cody, come in.” Static. 

And then they felt the impact through the ground. 

“Oh no.” 

* * * * *

“As torn up as we are about the dastardly departed, what can you tell us?” Through the haze of drugs and sleep, Pike still recognized the voice from the hallway. Whoever the ‘sir’ was. 

“Well I don’t know anything, really. I don’t know what species he is, other than vaguely humanoid. And that’s the only thing I can tell you.” 

“And this guy?” Feet shuffled until they were close to him. 

“Definitely human, I think from Earth, but there’s no identification. No one who matches his fingerprints or dental records.” 

Since she mentioned it, his mouth definitely tasted like that casting jello they used on teeth. 

“So what’s he doing all the way out there?” ‘Sir’ mused quietly. “He looks like command, might be able to give us some answers about all this.” 

Chris almost laughed. As it was his chest spasmed and he started weakly coughing up his soul. 

“Easy,” the female doctor, he assumed, said, as water touched his mouth. “Better drink this.” 

More fucking sippy cups. He was getting godawful tired of them. 

She pulled the cup away after a couple seconds and apparently started raising the bed, because he was half-sitting up before he managed to pry his tired and hurting eyes open. 

The doctor was pretty. That’s really all he thought. Long brown hair, old style. Not necessarily  _ hot,  _ just very pretty. 

His attention was drawn to a not-as-pretty face a moment later. The man in charge. Silver hair, tired eyes, a bit of humor there, too. Yep, he was the head honcho in this outfit. The guy smiled and said, “Hi, I’m Jack O’Neill.” 

Pike just frowned at him a bit. “Where am I.” His voice was already shot to shit to begin with, but smoke inhalation obviously hadn’t done him any favors. 

‘O’Neill’s’ mouth pursed a bit and his dark eyes migrated to look at the corner of the room. “Well, how about we start with what you were up to on that ship? My people weren’t able to pull any records.” 

Pike looked down at his body, covered by blankets and, by the feel, a show-me-your-ass gown and a metric fuck-ton of bandages. He could hear machines beeping, so whatever timeline he’d gotten into wasn’t too far back. He just cleared his throat and repeated, “Where am I.” 

Jack looked around the room again without speaking, and Chris felt anxiety start clawing at his gut, but did his best to keep it down for now. 

Another man’s voice made him jump slightly, or at lest as much as he could. “You’re in a secure Air Force base.” 

A bald guy stepped into his line of sight and Pike mentally amended his earlier guess. ‘O’Neill’ wasn’t quite the top dog, this feller was. 

“Air Force?” Pike rasped half to himself. He looked around the room again, taking in the equipment and making a hazy guess at the early 2000s. The technological timeline hadn’t exactly been his area of expertise. 

“Yes,” the In-Charge said after a second. “I’m General Hammond. Who are you?” 

Chris made as if to sit up, but the pull of velcro restraints on his wrists stopped him. As insane as he knew it sounded, he had to ask. “What year is it?” 

Indeed, everyone paused and stared hard at him for a moment. After the awkward silence, O’Neill said matter-of-factly, “1998.” 

Pike’s head hurt and he stared up at the ceiling. Concrete, just like the walls. Underground somewhere. In an Air Force base. In 1998. Huh. 

“What’s your name?” Hammond again ventured. 

He answered mechanically, like every time before. “Captain Christopher Pike.” The pain was climbing, and a monitor made some racket. The doctor moved for the dials and vials and cranked something up. Gradually, warm numbness spread back through him. It felt nice to be warm again. Felt like it had been awhile. “Where—” 

“Captain, why did your ship crash into that planet?” 

“I don’t know.” He relaxed more into the thin mattress and tried not to fall back asleep, his voice slurring pretty severely. “Wasn’t my ship.” They kept staring at him so he kept going. “Got picked up . . . don’t know who or what they were. Soldiers. They took me from some other guys, don’t know who they were, either. Don’t know how I got here.” 

“Well we brought you through the StarGate,” Jack said. “That ship crashed around it and activated it, somehow. Do you know who the feller we shot is?” 

Pike looked over to the metal table Jack had pointed at and saw some dirty pirate. He didn’t know what he was other than scum, probably. “No.” 

The General grunted. “Well, where are you from, Captain?” 

“Earth,” he couldn’t stop himself and realized with mounting horror that the baby slugs had gotten big enough to secrete the truth toxins. “Starfleet.” 

“Starfleet?” O’Neill looked at him funny. “What in the hell is that?” 

“Scientific military unit.” The all-too-familiar pain bit harder at his spine, and whatever sleep he wanted to get was replaced with only panic as he yanked hard on the restraints. “Jesus Christ, get these fucking things out of me!” 

“What?” Everyone looked panicked as he started writhing. 

“Parasites,” he managed to gasp, and he didn’t know when he started tearing up but he was. “Spinal cord. Now would be  **_FUCKING FANTASTIC!”_ **

Janet started shoving syringes into bottles. Unperturbed by the litany of swearing and whimpering, she calmly said, “Everyone out, please. General, if you could get a few more doctors in here that would be great.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Texas raising coming through. He gestured for everyone to file out, sending a last glance at Pike’s thrashing body before ducking out the door, mumbling, “Poor bastard.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I figured better that than leaving y'all on the hook for too long. Appreciate ya, have a good read!

“What in God’s name  _ is that?”  _

“Definitely some kind of parasite, but I don’t really know what. I’ve tested everything I can think of against them, and nothing’s working. Acids, bases, metals, water, salt, everything. They just power right through.” 

“Eugh.” Jack looked thoroughly grossed out. “Can’t we at least get them out and, somehow, contain them?” 

“I’ve got people working on it right now, but we aren’t even sure how many there are there.” 

“Eugh.” 

As Janet paced back to the microscope Jack’s eyes wandered to the man of the hour. He was just barely unconscious, and the SG med team had pumped him with as many downers as possible before the statistics started crying and he was at too great a risk of O.D.ing. Pike was pale and clammy, laying on his still thoroughly-damaged stomach so they had access to the parasites, and his filleted back was madly trembling and twitching. Jack did not envy his situation. 

“You’re  _ sure _ these things aren’t contagious, right?” 

“Mostly.” Her smile was weak and faint but it was still there. “We’ve retrieved twenty-seven of the little buggers, but they’re only about the size of a nail head and hard to find. They’re even harder to grab onto with tools.” She looked up from the paperwork and back to Pike with sad eyes. “And he can still feel most of what we’re doing, certainly the cutting and rooting through muscle.” Jack’s look of horrified disgust did not dissuade her in the slightest. “We don’t want him to go into cardiac arrest and either lose him or damage him further in resuscitating him, so we’re trying to take it slow and keep as much of the discomfort away as possible.” 

Jack’s look was incredulous. “Discomfort? This is discomfort? Boy, I’d hate to see someone in real pain!” 

Janet just laughed and slapped the file into his arms. “The General needs the report to update the President.” 

“Oh yeah, gee thanks, Janet,” Jack said, waving the file slightly and putting on a little step-around-dance. “Why I’d love to run your paperwork around for you. Have any emails for me to send, too? Any coffee to make?” 

She laughed again and shook her head, shooing him out. “Cream and no sugar for me, Jack. Get out of here!” 

His wounded look was lost on the med door as it closed in his face. 

“He’s a hoot,” Pike grumbled. It hurt to try to talk while laying on his face, which was something he hadn’t expected. 

Janet’s head whipped around to him and he winced on her behalf at the audible  _ pop _ he heard. “You’re not supposed to be awake.” 

“Sorry.” He tried a smile but everything was quite numb while also being on fire and he couldn’t tell what was or wasn’t working. “Wish I was.” 

“Christ, I’ll bet.” She was standing next to him a lot sooner than he realized she’d be there and he flinched back hard, feeling the regret for it a second later when every part of him that had been opened to the world, a solid twenty percent, probably, screeched indignity in unison. The doctor noticed how his face blanched and stepped back slightly while still trying to study the machinery around him. “Sorry, I’m trying to see what I can give you without stopping your heart in the process . . . .” 

“Yep,” he gasped, stinging hands clenching the blankets until he could barely feel them, anything to try alleviating the pain. One slug had nearly killed him, more than thirty without any potency regulation? Oh God, oh God. He didn’t care if the painkillers would kill him, anything would be preferable to the gut-tearing feelings going on right now. He didn’t care if she hit him with syringes of anthrax or a ball peen hammer, he just wanted the pain to fade even a little. 


End file.
